


A Respite

by Sneaky_Apostate



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, references to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26341270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sneaky_Apostate/pseuds/Sneaky_Apostate
Summary: Elissa struggles to cope with the loss of her family. Duncan provides whatever support he can.
Relationships: Female Cousland/Duncan (Dragon Age)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 12
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	A Respite

**Author's Note:**

  * For [commandermorgan (fallow_dear)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallow_dear/gifts).



> Hope you enjoy!

They were somewhere near South Reach when Elissa began to hack at her hair. 

It was just past midnight, and Duncan was alert and keeping watching at one end of their camp. Elissa had woken up, still feeling disorientated in alien surroundings despite the days that had passed; every time she opened her eyes, she kept expecting to be safe in her own home. When everything inevitably came back to her, she felt something hit into her stomach, leaving her hollow and raw. 

Her hair was tangled - mussed from her night braid - and a few loose strands were falling over her face. Her breathing was still rushed and ragged from the dreams of home, but she tried to calm herself by tucking the loose strands back into place behind her ear - tried to make everything perfect again. They fell right back in front of her eyes, and she distantly registered the burn in her scalp as she abruptly tore them out. 

She gasped belatedly, the pain a reaction that came moments late. Beside her, her faithful mabari whipped his head up to make sure she was safe. 

The strands were still tangled within her fingers, even now not conforming to her will. 

Eleanor used to sit her down in front of the fireplace every evening and run a brush through her daughter’s hair, singing stories of princesses with floor-length braids and even longer dresses. When she was done, she’d gathered the strands in her palm and blown little kisses at the ends. 

_A mother’s spell_ , Eleanor had whispered teasingly to her giggling daughter, _to make it grow long and beautiful_. 

Elissa had started to hack at her braid before she’d even realised what she was doing. 

_I do so love your hair, my little Lissa._

Duncan had said nothing when he’d seen her haphazard work the following morning. 

When they’d finally reached an inn at a small village named Lothering, she felt her cheeks burn at the raised eyebrows she received from a group of farmers mingling outside the door. Duncan coaxed her inside, blocking her from their prying eyes. 

The inn was mostly deserted as the sun had not yet set, but a solitary woman with short red hair sitting by the fireplace caught Elissa’s eye. There was no time to linger, as Duncan quickly acquired a room for them and began to direct her upstairs, but the lone woman gave her a soft smile before she was out of sight. 

There was a mirror inside their room and one bed. Duncan was quick to assure her that he would wait until the next day - when they would arrive at Ostagar - to sleep, and so she was able to take the bed for herself. 

As she slung her pack down onto the mattress, she caught sight of her hair in the mirror, and flushed red at how messy it looked. 

_A Cousland always takes pride in their appearance,_ her father had always said. Even when he’d been stumbling in a pool of his own blood, he was still wearing one of his finest doublets. 

Elissa flinched, blinking the memory away, and sat down on the edge of the mattress. Her hand reached up to her shoulder, stumbling over bare skin where she was used to feeling loose hair. 

Duncan was still by the doorway, and she glanced up to see his mouth moving. Startling, she realised he must have addressed her, and she shook her head and cleared her throat. 

“Pardon?” She asked, blinking away a strange sort of fogginess. 

He calmly repeated his words, not commenting on her behaviour. 

“I simply asked if you were hungry,” Duncan asked, polite as ever. 

She blinked for a moment, and then shook her head again. 

“No,” Elissa replied, glancing down at her lap. “Never.” 

He raised his eyebrows at her strange phrasing, and placed his own pack down by the doorway. He set about unfastening his sword and setting down his shield, but somehow she never felt his gaze leave her. 

“Never?” He repeated, the gentlest hint of dryness to his voice. “That _is_ very confident.” 

She glanced up at him, flushing a deep red as she realised what she’d said. 

“No! I didn’t mean…” She trailed off, sighing and not yet realising how easily he’d managed to pull her from apathy. 

“I know,” Duncan replied calmly, standing back up and leaning against the doorway once more. 

They were silent, and she wondered whether he felt like he needed to watch her - from Duncan’s brief explanations, she’d gathered that it was common for some recruits to try to flee before they’d been fully initiated. She considered trying to convince him that he didn’t need to watch her - her father had given his word, and she would not dishonour his memory by breaking it for him - but she couldn’t quite summon the strength. 

Instead, Elissa met his eyes and shrugged. 

“I wanted to do it,” she said, gesturing up to her cropped hair. “I thought it would be right...since all of our lives have moved on.” She shook her head, running her fingers along the jagged edges. “But I just feel foolish now.” 

Elissa wondered whether she sounded silly, whether he’d think her frivolous for placing so much care in how her fucking _hair_ looked after losing her entire home and family. It sounded something like her cousin Habren would do, like that time she’d stomped her feet when she’d decided her Feast-Day gift wasn’t pretty enough one year. 

_Lissa got an Antivan dress!_ Habren had screeched, tossing her new necklace to the ground and snatching at Elissa’s pretty dress until it tore in her hands. Later that evening, Eleanor and Bryce had praised their daughter for her calm demeanour, and told her they were proud of what a fine young woman she was for not lashing out at Habren in return. Fergus, on the other hand, had received a firm reprimanding, as he’d hidden horse dung underneath Habren’s pillow in retaliation. 

Elissa was always the one who was mild-mannered, the prized gem of the Couslands. And now, she was tucked away in a small room in a Lothering inn, wondering how severely Duncan was realising he’d misjudged her. 

The Grey Warden, however, said nothing, and merely reached to his boot and pulled out a small, rogue-ish dagger. 

“I can even it out for you,” Duncan said, voice soft as he gestured to her hair. “I’ve plenty of experience.” 

Elissa blinked, glancing at the knife. Then, she kicked off her boots, crossing her legs on the mattress and turning her back to him in a strangely abrupt acceptance. 

_There’s no shame in taking a helping hand when it’s offered_ , Fergus had told her when he’d crept into the library during her lessons - sneaking her cookies whenever Aldous had nodded off.

This help did not come from her brother - and never would again, she reminded herself - but Elissa was comfortable accepting it regardless. 

Duncan was gentle as he set about evening out her haphazard work; fingers deft and warm as they occasionally brushed against the nape of her scalp. 

“Not long after I set out on my own,” Duncan spoke up, voice low, “I had to cut my own hair for the first time. Money was scarce and I didn’t think I needed to waste it on this, of all foolish things. So I gathered it up in my fist and tried to saw it off.” 

Elissa couldn’t help the quirk of her lip, imagining a brash and youthful version of the man behind her stubbornly making the same mistake she had. 

“You can imagine how it looked,” Duncan continued, slicing away at another jagged edge. “Eventually, I gave in after nobody would give me work, and went and found a man who knew what he was doing. He was kind, and taught me the basic skill.” He chuckled, the sound low and almost rumbling. “I wasn’t perfect at it, but it was enough to make do for myself.” 

Elissa didn’t reply, but she still allowed herself to relax under his work; something about him warm enough that it managed to seep down even into her apathy. 

When he was done, she turned around to catch sight of herself in the mirror. Something in her chest ached at the image; she was _new,_ she was grieving, but she was polished again. 

_Perfect,_ her mother would have whispered in her ear. 

“Thank you,” Elissa said softly, sincere as she glanced back up at him. 

He nodded, surveying her appearance with a calm eye. 

“I can teach you the basics too,” Duncan offered, and held out the dagger towards her. 

Elissa finally allowed him to see her smile, and she reached out and accepted the dagger from his hand. 

“I’d like that." 


End file.
